


One Day at a Time

by RyanWilliam



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shameless excuse to write sickfic, re-uploaded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanWilliam/pseuds/RyanWilliam
Summary: Jake slips into protective mode when Dwight falls ill.





	One Day at a Time

Jake knew Dwight wasn’t feeling well.

It was the little things that only he noticed – a soft sigh that lasted a moment too long, the way his voice occasionally broke off into a low mumble, and the tired, unfocused look in his eyes.

Jake stared at him, his senses on high alert. He weighed his options carefully, not letting his gaze waver for even a second away from Dwight. If he approached him abruptly, there was no doubt Dwight would deny him, insisting nothing was wrong even when Jake knew that to be a lie.

Meg rose to her feet then, yawning and stretching her arms over her head. When settled, she turned to Dwight with a cheeky wink. “First watch?”

Dwight didn’t react. He remained still, staring into the flickering fire.

“Hey,” Meg snapped her fingers, and Dwight startled. His head shot up to Meg, a panicked and dazed look overcoming his features. “W-what?”

“First watch, nerd.” Meg stuck out her tongue. “You want it?”

“O-oh. U-um, yes, I’ll take it.” Dwight nodded quickly. “Sorry.”

Something deep with Jake flared. He grit his teeth and stood up, attracting the attention of both of them.

“No.” Jake ordered, pointing at Meg. “You take first watch.”

Meg blinked. “I, uh… okay?”

“Dwight,” Jake turned to him, trembling there helplessly, and instructed, “With me.”

“I-” Dwight swallowed hard. “What for?”

“Because I’m telling you to.” Jake offered his hand, which made Dwight hesitate, but he grasped it anyways before pulling himself to his feet.  
Dwight took a brief moment, gathering his bearings and catching his balance from the sudden movement, only deepening Jake’s worry. Jake wrapped his arm around his waist without delay, ushering Dwight towards him. Dwight grabbed onto Jake’s jacket, his fingers curling into the coarse fabric. His head bowed, his gaze towards at the ground.

“With me.” Jake repeated, his voice softer.

Dwight gave a tiny nod.

Jake began to lead Dwight from the clearing, but not before he heard Meg call out, “Jake?”

Jake glanced over his shoulder to see Meg standing beside the fire, confused and perhaps a bit concerned. “Is everything okay?”

“Keep watch.” Jake said simply.

Jake didn’t give Meg another chance to intercept. His grip around Dwight’s waist tightened slightly as he made a direct path to the far edge of the clearing. This was the area in which he had claimed early on – it was shaded, providing safety, and the ideal distance from the camp. It was close enough to hear raised voices, but far enough to supply a sense of privacy.

“Jake,” Dwight gasped, “W-what’s going on? Where are we going?”

“Out of the clearing.”

“I can- I can see that, but-”

Jake cut him off when he came to a halt, gripping his shoulders. Dwight blinked in confusion, before Jake gave him one word - “Sit.”

Dwight glanced about his surroundings before obeying, lowering himself hesitantly to the ground beneath the massive tree looming overhead. Jake spared one last glance over to the campfire a short distance away. Claudette had just joined Meg, no doubt pondering about the two of them, because Meg gestured in their direction before shrugging and settling down beside the flames. Claudette followed suite shortly after.

Good. They weren’t going to pry.

Jake crouched and slid his gloves off, setting them aside. Here in the cool darkness casting long shadows, the fine sheen of sweat across Dwight’s forehead was much more prominent. His cheeks were flushed and there was a certain exhaustion that seemed to weigh down upon his features.

“Hold still for a moment.” Jake murmured. He placed the back of his right hand against Dwight’s brow and pressed his opposite hand to the back of his neck. The heat radiating off of him was far too intense. He mentally checked that boxed and continued.

He slid his hands downwards a little. He took his index and middle finger from his left hand and pressed it against the nape of his neck. He waited, counting the rhythmic pulses in his head for a short period of time. Dwight was still and silent, as instructed.

Finally, Jake placed both hands gingerly upon either side of his neck, his fingertips dipping and rubbing carefully, sensing and mapping out the area. He picked up on what he needed in just a matter of seconds, but the way Dwight’s eyelashes fluttered sleepily beneath his touch made him not want to pull away immediately.

Jake stared at him intently, watching his reaction as he lightened the pressure by a small degree. He slid his thumbs from the shadow of his jaw downwards, stroking carefully. Dwight’s eyes closed gradually, his head leaning forward ever so slightly. Jake pressed his fingers against the back of his neck, massaging there in slow circles, feeling the tension drip from his tightly-wound muscles. His fingertip dug into a knot near the base of his neck beside his shoulder, and he gently worked it free. Dwight’s shoulders slumped, as if what little energy he had left had been drained away.

Jake leaned forward and touched a small kiss to Dwight’s hair, cautious not to startle him when he asked softly, “What hurts?”

Dwight didn’t respond at first, but Jake gave him his time. He kissed him again, this time at the shell of his ear, and let his hands wander upwards from his neck and into his hairline. He ran his fingers through the wavy locks, rolling his nails against his scalp. He felt Dwight shudder beneath him.

“I…” Dwight’s voice was terribly small and vulnerable, and something in Jake wanted so badly in that moment to shield him and protect him against everything that may ever hurt him. He guided Dwight closer to him, relieved when Dwight nestled his forehead into his neck. He tucked his arms around him instantly, holding his slender frame against him.

“My throat,” Dwight mumbled against his skin, “My head.”

“You’ve got a pretty bad fever.” Jake told him, keeping his voice quiet, “Your heart rate is rapid and your glands are a bit swollen.”

Dwight trembled, managing a tiny whisper of, “I’m sorry.”

The words struck Jake hard. He froze for a brief second, his eyes widening.

“No,” Jake growled lowly. “Dwight, don’t you dare apologize. This isn’t your fault.”

“’m just…” Dwight mumbled, “dragging us down again.“

“That’s not true at all.” Jake shook his head. “Not in the least. You’re such an asset, and you always have been. You help keep this team together, do you understand me?”

“I understand.” Dwight murmured, but Jake could tell his words barely registered. Dwight was so tired – Jake could feel his body losing the ability to support itself.

“Let's get you to bed.” Jake slipped one arm around him, holding him securely to help Dwight rise unsurely to his feet. Dwight tensed suddenly, his hands tightening at Jake's arm, but Jake held onto him and helped keep his balance.

“Lean against me – I've got you.”

The area where Jake slept was a pitiful excuse of what he called a bed – a few layers of abandoned fabric splayed across a relatively even patch of ground with a spare cotton jacket to make use as a pillow. The spot was a bit further deeper into the woods surrounding the clearing. View of the campfire was very limited, but the terrain here was softer and more comfortable.

“Lay down here.” Jake released him carefully and Dwight obeyed. He moved unsurely, curling up on on end of the makeshift bedroll. His eyes closed and he sighed, soft and relieved, and Jake could only bet it worked wonders for his head and back for him to simply just relax.

Jake reached and removed Dwight’s glasses, folding them and setting them to the side. Dwight didn’t show a reaction to the gesture, and Jake knew then that he was already half-asleep. Jake watched him, entranced by the soft innocence. Dwight sleepily tugged the hoodie closer, the pads of his fingers caressing slowly at the rare softness.

Jake stole a final glance over to the fire. Claudette and Meg were chatting amongst themselves now, and were now joined by Nea, David, and Ace, who were playing a game of cards. No doubt Feng had gone to sleep already – she was always first asleep and first to wake.

Jake sat down close to Dwight, leaning against a nearby tree. He reached to his left, beneath a mat he had crafted of small branches, and removed a small, bare block of wood and a short knife. He had discovered the blade on a rather risky expedition, and although it wasn’t long enough to do much for damage, it was the perfect length for carving. Despite the brown rust adorning the edges, it was still extremely sharp.

He set to work, handling the piece of wood in his hands, letting the knife slide this way and that, slicing off tiny bits as he attempted to shape it. The familiar motion was in some way lulling, settling his nerves. He barely had to even look at what he was doing – with a quick swipe over the block with his fingers, he could tell exactly which portion had to be fixed, which edge had to be rounded over. He stole glances at Dwight every so often, and each time his gaze settled on him, he felt something in his chest tug.

As the minutes blended into hours and section of the piece of wood slowly took shape into the muzzle of a fox, Jake’s hands began moving sluggishly, with less precision. He stopped to rub his eyes, a yawn pulling at his lips. He tipped his head back, meaning to rest for just a moment or two, and closed his eyes.

When his eyes opened again, the deep blue sky had been turned to nearly black. The moon was shining high overhead, illuminating his surroundings in a pale light. He immediately looked over to Dwight, and a sudden sense of dread overcame him.

Dwight was still asleep, but only barely. He was panting, his chest heaving with every difficult inhale. He was shivering terribly, and his head thrashed once, a soft moan slipping his dry lips.

Jake moved closer, touching the back of his hand against Dwight’s brow. His skin felt as though it were on fire. Jake shed his scarf and jacket rapidly before gathering Dwight into his arms.

“Dwight,” Jake murmured. “I’ve got you, sweetness. Open your eyes. It’s just a dream. I’m right here.”

Jake began rubbing his arms vigorously, trying to supply warmth. Dwight awoke with a gasp, lurching upwards, but Jake held him down firmly. Dwight looked up at him, fervent panic flooding his gaze. “J-J-”

“Your fever’s spiking.” Jake snatched his jacket and draped it over Dwight’s shoulders. Dwight clutched onto Jake, terrified. “But w-where’s-?”

“No one is here but us.” Jake shook his head. “I promise.”

“N-no, he was-” Dwight begged, “I- he was- I s-swear-!”

“Hey,” Jake spoke slowly, cupping Dwight’s warm cheeks with his hands. “Focus on me. Just me.”

Dwight swallowed hard but gave an anxious nod. His fevered gaze struggled to settle on Jake, and Jake could see the pain behind his eyes.

“Do you see?” Jake pointed into the direction of the clearing, where Claudette was busying herself with adding more sticks to the fire and David and Nea rested nearby. Dwight squinted through the darkness, his eyes struggling to focus.

“Everyone’s okay. You’re okay. Claudette’s keeping watch, and everyone is safe.”

“Everyone’s safe.” Dwight echoed brokenly.

Jake’s chest ached. There was something more distressing about watching Dwight in so much agony than it was to outrun a maddened murderer. Dwight looked so small, clad in Jake’s jacket, trembling against the bitter chill of the night’s wind. He looked somehow younger without his glasses, more vulnerable.

Dwight raised his hand to his mouth then, closing his teeth over nails and biting down nervously. Jake recognized the motion immediately and, without thinking, slipped his fingers between Dwight’s. He lowered his hand away and intertwined their fingers, holding tightly. He felt Dwight’s hand clutching to his desperately, his head bowing. Jake pressed the base of his palm against the dip of Dwight’s wrist, feeling as his heartbeat slowed to a steady pace.

“Get some sleep.” Jake instructed. He smoothed his palm across his forehead, pushing back the tangled, damp locks of hair from his brow.

“Okay.” Dwight mumbled. He pulled away slowly, and Jake realized then that his sudden stress and panicked movement definitely would not have helped his headache. He moved with him, grasping his arms to help him keep his balance, helping him to lay down on Jake’s bedroll.

Dwight drew his hand over his eyes, and Jake caught a glimpse of the way he clenched his jaw ever so briefly. A soft sound slipped past his lips, a shuddering gasp, and Jake hushed him softly as he lowered himself beside him.

“Hey, hey… What is it?”

“Everything just-” Dwight took in a breath, rubbing at his eyes. “… hurts.”

Jake chuckled then, shaking his head before settling his arms comfortably around Dwight’s body. It felt odd, feeling the texture of his own jacket when he reached for Dwight, but pleasantly so. He could certainly get used to it. “Surely you’ve had a fever before.”

“I have,” Dwight pulled his hand away from his eyes, the corner of his lip tugging into a tiny smile. Jake had a sudden urge to kiss it.

“But I usually just take a whole bunch of meds that knock me out... Put on a bad movie and sleep it off.”

“I see…” Jake’s hand absently trailed across Dwight’s middle, his fingertips skimming the jacket in shapeless motions.

“What about you then, huh?” Dwight asked sleepily. “What do you do when you’re sick?”

Jake paused, thinking. Sickness was not common where he lived – minimal human contact did wonders for the immune system. He didn’t have to worry about airborne or otherwise contagious germs because that simply was not an option in the depth of the woods he called his.

“I make sure to stay hydrated, usually with blackberry or rosehip tea. Other than that, not much else changes.”

“You don’t rest at all…?”

“I’ll take an easy day if I need. Read a bit, maybe, or work in the garden instead of hunting.”

“That sounds nice.” Dwight’s voice was a low mumble, his words thick with exhaustion. “What I wouldn’t give for a mug of hot tea…”

“Fresh hot tea,” Jake added quietly. “Nothing… processed. Fresh tea with ingredients picked from right outside.”

Dwight curled in closer to him, nestling his head into the nape of Jake’s neck. Jake slid his fingers through Dwight’s hair gently, simply feeling the warmth against his body.

“I’ll make you some.”

Jake spoke without thinking, and the words nearly surprised him. But he held true in his honesty, didn’t waver, and he felt Dwight smile tiredly in response.

“Promise?” He whispered.

“Yeah.” Jake kissed his hair, “I promise.”

Dwight drifted to sleep only moments later. He slept soundly, breathing steadily and calmly, his body relaxed against Jake’s. This time, Jake allowed himself to close his eyes. The worst of the fever had passed. Jake predicted that his fever would be broken within the hour, and all that was left after that was to make sure he stayed rested as his body recovered.

Maybe one day, Jake will truly be able to make Dwight a hot cup of blackberry tea.

Maybe one day, Jake will be able to watch those bad movies with Dwight.

Maybe one day, Jake will be able to wake up in his bed one morning with Dwight beside him, right where he should be, and fall back asleep to the sound of the birds outside and the ticking alarm clock.

And maybe one day, just maybe, they’ll be okay.


End file.
